


here comes the rush before we touch

by ktlsyrtis



Category: Chandler & Co (TV), Holby City, Silent Witness (TV)
Genre: Accidental Stimulation, Begging, Biting, Bratting, Collars, F/F, Fluff and Smut, Light BDSM, Praise Kink, Semi-Public Sex, part of the Redgrave Russell Cinematic Multiverse (RRCMV)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:48:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26829880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ktlsyrtis/pseuds/ktlsyrtis
Summary: A collection of fics written for Kinktober 2020
Relationships: Elly Chandler/Jill Raymond, Serena Campbell/Bernie Wolfe
Comments: 37
Kudos: 71
Collections: The Redgrave Russell Cinematic Multiverse (RRCMV)





	1. nothing stands between us here

**Author's Note:**

> Bernie has a tough day; Serena wants to help.
> 
> _prompts: collar, thigh riding, praise kink_

Bernie sinks back against the door as she closes it behind her, taking a moment to relish the stillness of the house, the familiar scents of home. Feels the very first tendrils of tension start to bleed out of her as she kicks off her trainers, hangs her coat on the peg.

Walking through on stocking feet, she moves toward the soft music emanating from the sitting room, pauses to lean in the doorway, a soft smile on her face. Serena’s curled up on the sofa, feet tucked beneath her, reading a copy of the Lancet, soft jazz playing in the background. She glances up, and the smile that crosses her face warms Bernie right through.

“Hello, darling,” she says, swinging her feet down to the floor and glancing at the clock. “Goodness, I didn’t realize how late it was. Hard shift?”

Bernie just nods, doesn’t have the energy to talk about it, doesn’t even know what she’d say if she did. 

“Can I get you something to eat?” is met with a shake of Bernie’s head, blonde curls swishing about her face. She can see the way Serena’s studying her, the worry in her eyes, but can’t find it in her to dispel it just yet.

Serena crosses the room, coming to stand close enough that Bernie can smell her perfume. Her feet are bare, which puts her a good inch shorter than Bernie’s used to, and the difference makes Bernie smile. She feels Serena’s hand glide lightly up her arm.

“Why don’t you go upstairs, take a shower, and I’ll meet you in bed, hmm?”

Relief chases away another knot of tension between Bernie’s shoulder blades, relief at not having to make a decision, at the care in Serena’s voice. She nods again, presses a kiss to Serena’s cheek before turning away. Hears Serena puttering about, closing up the house as she makes her way up the stairs.

The heat of the shower is bliss on her sore muscles, and for a long moment she stands beneath it, arms crossed against the cold tile wall, cushioning her forehead.

It’s not always like this. Most days Bernie prides herself on her ability to separate herself from the job, to leave work behind when she goes home each evening. But sometimes, she can’t shake it off as easily, comes home with the weight of the world still clinging to every inch of her.

She towels off quickly, grabbing Serena’s silk dressing gown from the hook on the door and wrapping it around herself. The bedroom is dim, only the lamps on the bedside tables lit, casting soft shadows about the room. Serena is sitting up in bed, wearing the champagne colored nightgown that Bernie loves, the one that falls just barely to her thighs, lets Bernie feel all of her when they curl up together at night. 

She smiles softly as Bernie approaches, eyes still on her journal, giving Bernie whatever space she needs, letting her dictate what happens next. The consideration makes Bernie feel so warm, so loved.

But that’s not what she needs tonight.

Opening her nightstand drawer, Bernie traces her fingers along the pale pink collar resting there, the leather buttery soft and slightly cool to the touch. She’d balked a bit at the color - Serena liked the way it matched Bernie’s favorite coat, the way the soft color looked against her skin - but has come to appreciate how unexpectedly feminine it makes her feel.

Taking it from the drawer, she sets it atop the duvet, near Serena’s hip, kneels on the bed beside it. Serena pauses as she glances at the collar. Looks up at Bernie intently, studying her face.

Eventually she smiles, shifting to the side a bit, giving Bernie more room. Gratitude filling her, Bernie turns to sit, back facing Serena, hands lifting her hair up out of the way. 

The leather slithers across her skin, Serena’s fingers trailing along her throat as she settles it in place. Bernie hears the soft click of the buckle, sighs a bit as the weight of the collar sinks in. A soft kiss brushes against the back of her neck, just above the buckle, and Bernie feels more of her tension slip away. She shimmies down the bed and curls up on her side, the ring of the collar faintly jingling as she rests her head on the soft warmth of Serena’s thigh.

They lay like that for a while, Serena reading her journal and absentmindedly carding her fingers through Bernie’s damp hair, separating the curls. Bernie drifts on the feeling, lets herself sink into the knowledge that for now she doesn’t have to make the hard calls, doesn’t have to be the brilliant trauma surgeon, or the stern Army major. Just lets her breathing slow to match Serena’s, tries to empty her mind of everything beyond these four walls, the warmth beneath her cheek.

Whatever the reason, she finds she can’t quite get there tonight. Thoughts of patients lost, things she could’ve done differently, creep back in despite the peace of the moment, and tension swirls anew in her stomach, her brow furrowing as she tries to push it away, burrowing deeper against Sernea’s thigh.

“Darling?” Serena’s voice is gentle, questioning. Bernie just burrows a little closer, doesn’t know how to explain what she’s feeling.

In the end, she doesn’t need to.

Fingers slip beneath her chin, urging her to look up, and the tenderness she finds in Serena’s eyes makes her own prickle and blur. Her breath catches as those fingers slip lower, curling through the ring of the collar and tugging lightly.

Bernie follows, lets Serena pull her up to her knees. Serena kicks the duvet down her bare legs, maneuvering Bernie’s pliant body to straddle her lap, knees tucked close around her hips. Uses her grip on the collar to pull Bernie down into a slow, sweet kiss. Bernie sighs, relaxing into the connection, the perfect way Serena’s lips fit against her own, her hands coming to rest on Serena’s shoulders, thumbs tracing where the narrow straps meet warm skin.

The kiss is unhurried, a slow, thorough exploration, the room quiet except for the sounds of their lips meeting and parting, muffled murmurs of pleasure. Bernie makes to lean back, to take a breath, but Serena’s grip on the ring tightens, keeping her in place. A frisson of pleasure travels down Bernie’s spine, her heart beating a little faster. A dark chuckle vibrates against her lips, and Serena moves to pepper kisses along the edge of Bernie’s jaw.

“I want to take care of you tonight, darling.” The warmth of Serena’s breath raises goosebumps on Bernie’s skin. “Will you let me do that?”

Bernie can only nod in response, her hands clenching a little tighter on Serena’s shoulders. She can feel Serena’s smile against her skin, eyes fluttering shut with a groan as her tongue flicks out to trace the upper edge of the collar with a whispered “Good girl.”

Serena takes her time, leaves no millimeter of Bernie’s neck and collarbones untouched, mapping her skin with lips and tongue and teeth until Bernie’s shifting in her lap. A regretful whimper slips from her lips as the delicious sensations cease.

“Patience, darling.” Serena shifts back a bit, and Bernie opens her eyes. 

Gaze tracking the movements of her hand, Serena’s fingers follow the neckline of the robe, down between the valley of Bernie’s breasts, coming to rest on the loosely tied knot at her waist, giving it a gentle tug. 

“Let me see you.”

A flush of pink heats Bernie’s cheeks. Even after all this time, after all the intimacy they’ve shared, there’s something about Serena’s directness that makes Bernie feel exposed in a way that has nothing to do with her state of undress. Her fingers move to replace Serena’s, fumbling a bit with the tie. Serena offers no help; leans back on her hands and avidly watches Bernie’s every move, eyes dark and gleaming.

The silk slithers off Bernie’s shoulders with a sibilant hiss, the rush of cool air that follows making her nipple tighten.

“Stop there.” 

Bernie freezes, the dressing gown hanging loosely from her elbows, focuses on holding herself still, keeping her breathing steady as Serena’s eyes roam the expanse of exposed skin, palpable as a caress.

“You are so beautiful,” Serena murmurs thoughtfully, and Bernie shivers as she reaches out, tracing the ridge of her collarbone with a fingertip. “Sometimes I wish other people could see you the way I do.”

“And what way is that?” Bernie manages to ask, despite the distraction of Serena’s fingers swirling aimless patterns along her skin, trailing fire in their wake.

“Well, everyone sees you as the no nonsense Major, don’t they?” Her voice is conversational, more what one would expect of a casual dinner between friends than being half naked in their bed. “They don’t get to see how soft you are, how tender and eager to please.”

“Only for you,” Bernie says, the truth of it settling in her gut, shining from her eyes. It’s not possessiveness, it’s a freedom to be able to be like this, to know that Serena only ever wants Bernie to be fully herself.

“Is that right?” she purrs, walking her fingers back up the slope of Bernie’s breast. “Are you all mine?”

Bernie nods eagerly, voice caught behind the sudden lump in her throat. Serena teeth flash in a fierce, predatory smile, her fingers once again finding their home in the ring of the collar.

“ _Good_.”

This time their kiss is anything but soft, all clashing teeth and searching tongues. Bernie whimpers as Serena’s nips at her bottom lip, releasing it with a soft pop. She tries to pull Serena closer, frowning when she unexpectedly breaks the kiss.

“No, that won’t do at all.” Bernie follows her gaze to where her hands are gripping Serena’s arms. “I think you need to keep those to yourself.”

Letting her hands drop away, Bernie settles back on her heels a bit, heart hammering against her ribs. Still wearing that dangerous smile, Serena reaches around, Bernie’s breath catching as the motion presses their torsos together, the soft fabric of Serena’s nightgown teasing her sensitive nipples. 

A deliberate hand slowly fists in the robe, trapping Bernie’s arms behind her back, and she feels the silk pull tight, the belt wrapped around her wrists. A few moments of fumbling and Serena sits back again, apparently satisfied with her handiwork. Bernie tugs experimentally. The binding is tight but not painful, the slither of the silk against her skin making her nerve endings hum with each movement. She shifts a bit to ease the strain on her shoulders, blushing at the way it forces her to arch her back, breasts thrust forward.

“All right?” Serena asks, and Bernie murmurs an affirmative. She knows she could likely pull out of the bonds, but right now, at Serena’s mercy is exactly where she wants to be.

Humming softly, Serena runs her hands over every inch of Bernie’s torso, fingers counting the bumps of her ribs, skirting lightly over her breasts, but avoiding her nipples. Bernie feels like she’s standing for some sort of inspection; back ramrod straight and chest forward, all under Serena’s dispassionate calculating gaze. It makes her muscles twitch, heat settling heavy between her thighs as she does her best to hold still, to give herself over to Serena’s whim.

The first bite of fingernails against her sensitized skin has Bernie hissing a breath, her hips bucking. Serena just grins and repeats the action, dragging fire across her ribs and back until she’s gasping. Before she can recover, Serena’s mouth joins in, teeth sharp and insistent, catching and worrying her skin, leaving a trail of blotchy red marks in her wake.

Pain and pleasure get all mixed up and all Bernie can do is _feel_. Without the balance of her hands there’s nowhere she can go, and she writhes beneath the assault, not even sure herself if she’s trying to pull away or get closer; just a bundle of exposed nerves, every caress overwhelming, whether soft or sharp. She can’t even find it in her to be embarrassed when she feels herself dripping onto Serena’s thigh.

Serena’s hot, wet mouth engulfs one of her nipples, scraping the tip lightly with her teeth before swirling her tongue around it, and Bernie almost comes then and there. She moves to the other side, while dexterous fingers pinch and roll the first, pulling just to the edge of discomfort before releasing, then starting all over again. Head dropped back, Bernie pants harshly, lungs desperate for air. Her hips roll mindlessly, searching for friction, but Serena shifts, spreading her legs just enough that all Bernie finds is open air.

It makes the sensations everywhere else even more intense, focused, and Bernie starts to float on the feeling, mind hazy and distant.

A sharp tug to the collar brings her back somewhat, blinking down at Serena a little blearily. Only when she’s sure she has Bernie’s full attention does Serena slide a hand between her thighs.

Bernie arches back, the sudden attention to her clit making her cry out sharply, a blinding wave of pleasure pulsing through her. Serena’s fingers back off, sliding down and parting Bernie’s folds, dipping into her and drawing even more wetness back up.

“You’re so wet,” Serena groans, scribing wide circles that don’t contact Bernie’s throbbing clit. “Do you want to come, darling?” 

Bernie nods almost frantically, pressing down into Serena’s hand, a whine slipping from her throat when Serena pulls away.

“I asked you a question, Berenice.” The snap of command in her voice makes Bernie’s brain go a little fuzzy. “Do you want to come?”

“Y-yes,” she stammers, throat thick and heart pounding. “Please, Serena.” Bernie braces herself, anticipation for the moment that Serena touches her making her a little breathless.

Instead, she feels hands grip her hips, shifting her sideways. Bernie has to tense her stomach muscles to avoid topping over, feels an echoing throb low in her abdomen. 

Serena scoots back to sit a little higher against the headboard, and Bernie ends up straddling one of her thighs. Bernie’s knee hikes up the short nightie, until she can just feel damp curls brushing against her skin. She frowns when Serena’s hands pull away, feels the loss of sensation keenly.

“Go on then.” Serena quirks an eyebrow, and it takes a beat before her meaning sinks in. Heat rushes through Bernie, makes the bite marks stand out even more vividly against her pale skin.

It’s more than a bit awkward with her hands behind her back, the thick duvet creating a slightly unstable surface, but she manages to find purchase. Spreading her legs wider, Bernie presses down onto Serena’s leg, groans in relief at the pressure against her core.

Serena just watches, her eyes dark and intent, hands resting at her sides. 

As balanced as she’s going to get, Bernie rolls her hips forward, then back again, breath catching as pleasure sparks through her. She manages a few strokes, but the angle is all wrong; it may feel wonderful, but there’s no way she’ll be able to come like this. 

Pushing down a spike of self-consciousness, she spreads her legs even wider, trying to get closer. 

Finally her clit skids against Serena’s thigh, and Bernie almost sobs in relief, hips jerking forward on instinct. The direct contact is almost agonizing at first, pleasure cutting through her like a scalpel, but after a few strokes wetness coats Serena’s thigh, and Bernie is able to find a rhythm, panting out a sharp huff of breath with each stroke.

It should be embarrassing, she thinks, rutting against Serena like some kind of animal. But the thick, firm muscle of Serena’s thigh presses against her just right, feels too good, and Bernie just grinds down more firmly, chasing the sensation that’s already coiling at the base of her spine.

Just then Serena’s leg shifts, breaking the smooth pace, and putting Bernie a little off balance. She recovers quickly, but the moment she settles in, it happens again. Bernie looks up at Serena sharply, sees the mischievous smile tugging at Serena’s kiss swollen lips.

“Relax, darling. Take your time.” The leg between Bernie’s thighs presses up slightly, making her moan. “I want to enjoy this.”

Ignoring the way her body is screaming for release, Bernie sets a slower pace, hips rolling almost languidly back and forth along the length of Serena’s thigh. The feeling is amazing, the pleasure less focused than usual, just as potent but out of reach. Without realizing, Bernie’s motions speed up, searching for more.

Serena’s fingers grip firmly through the ring of the collar, stopping Bernie in place, and forcing her to meet Serena’s eyes.

“Slowly,” she says, dragging the word out. 

Bernie keens, nods in acknowledgement, trying to catch her breath.

Serena’s fingers stay there as Bernie starts to move once again. Each time she gets too eager, breaks the agonizingly slow pace, Serena tugs sharply at the collar. 

Part of Bernie balks at the correction. Desperation coils tightly inside her, demanding that she take what she needs, doesn’t want to wait anymore, but she pushes it away. Focuses instead on Serena’s eyes shining up at her, love and pride coming off of her in waves. 

She can do this for Serena. For Serena, she can do anything.

A kind of peace settles over Bernie. The pleasure is still there, licking like flames beneath her skin, but some of the urgency fades away as she lets herself be in the moment. No more racing thoughts, or second guessing. Only this. 

The movements of her hips become more fluid, forward and back, surging like the sea lapping at the shore.

“There we are. Nice and slow.” Serena’s voice is a balm, wraps around Bernie like a caress. “You’re being so good for me, darling. I want to enjoy you like this for a while longer. You can do that for me, can’t you?”

Bernie nods almost dreamily, without breaking pace, and the smile that breaks across Serena’s face could rival the sunrise.

It seems to go on forever, the feelings building but never cresting, holding Bernie at the precipice without offering relief. Sweat pools at the base of her spine, trickles between her breasts, her thighs burning with the sustained effort, but she doesn’t stop. How could she? Serena’s voice rises and falls in time with Bernie’s movements, telling her how good she is, how beautiful, how treasured, how loved, washing over her again, and again.

“Bernie.” A gentle tug reels Bernie’s wandering mind back in, and the desire she sees in Serena’s eyes makes her shiver. “Come for me, love. _Now_.”

The command makes Bernie’s hips roll, the tension against the collar urging her to a faster pace. She keeps her eyes locked on Serena’s as long as possible, her movements becoming more frantic as the tension builds.

A white hot ball of pleasure blossoms from Bernie’s core, and her eyes slam shut, back bowing as she spasms again and again, wetness bathing Serena’s thigh. Vaguely, she’s aware of a hand bumping against her knee, hears Serena groan out a curse, shuddering beneath her, but it all feels very far away.

Bernie collapses back on her heels, panting harshly. There’s a ringing in her ears, and the world seems a little dim around the edges, aftershocks still fluttering through her aching muscles. Serena’s arms wrap around her, and Bernie slumps against her body as she murmurs soothing words, hands working to untie the silken sash still binding Bernie’s wrists. It comes loose, freeing her arms, but they feel too heavy to move, her body overwhelmed by endorphins and exhaustion, shivering slightly as the sheen of sweat cools on her skin.

She lets Serena guide her down to the bed, burrowing into the soft down of the pillow as Serena pulls the duvet up over them.

“Still with me, darling?” Bernie hums softly, nuzzling into Serena’s hand as it strokes her cheek, cards through her damp hair. “I love you so much.”

“Love you too.” Somehow Bernie summons the strength to drape an arm over the curve of Serena’s waist, shifts to tuck her head in the crook of Serena’s neck, breathing deep. “Thank you.”

“Always, my love.” A gentle kiss brushes Bernie’s forehead, making her smile. “Sweet dreams.”

Sated and spent, Bernie drifts to sleep.


	2. let you cross every line I've got

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jill Raymond/Elly Chandler
> 
> _prompts: accidental stimulation (sort of), public, begging_

“Really? That’s the best you lot can come up with?”

Jill clenches her jaw, hard enough that her teeth creak a little. 

It’s rare that she and Elly cross paths professionally, which is a good thing. Obviously, she’s grateful for the first case, the one that brought Elly into her life, but on the whole they have very...different methods. Ones that tend to conflict spectacularly. 

Jill is methodical, stoic, by the book. She’s earned every ounce of respect she’s due, and no one on her team forgets it. Elly works on instinct, her focus far more on the clients in need than her own safety, and she rarely lets a pesky thing like the law get in her way. It’s led to a not inconsiderable number of rows between them. Jill knows that Elly is strong and capable, but it doesn’t stop her worrying. She’s spent most of her career as a front row observer to the worst actions of humanity. The thought of anything like that happening to Elly makes her chest clench in fear.

Today, she’d seen Elly as soon as she got on scene - arms crossed, arguing with one of her officers at the rope line, demanding she be let through. Jill interceded, let Elly pass on the pretense of consulting, citing the fact that she obviously had knowledge of the case. 

It’s not unusual, really. They work with private investigators fairly regularly, use them as a source of information that would be hard for the police to obtain.

The problem is that Elly is being such a _brat_.

Rather than standing on the sidelines, giving information when required, Elly has been shadowing Jill and her team’s every move, keeping up a running commentary of sarcastic remarks about everything from the efficacy of their methods to the cut of their uniforms. None of it is outright insulting, of course, each world is couched in a winning smile. Jill can tell most of her team are a bit smitten with Elly, and it’s not like she can blame them.

No, it’s very clear that all the little barbs and jabs have a single purpose - to get under Jill’s skin.

She’s not sure what’s more infuriating; that Elly is openly goading Jill like this in front of her team, or that it’s working.

Another mocking comment, and Jill has to fist her hand in the pocket of her trousers. All she can think about is taking Elly down a peg, turning her cocksure smugness into a quivering mess. Just the thought of it washes over her till desire coils thick and hot in her abdomen.

“Do they pay you by the minute, or is it just a matter of personal pride to move as slowly as humanly possible,” Elly says lightly, ignoring Jill’s pointed glare, and damn, if that doesn’t make her throb. 

Jill knows she should be paying more attention to the job at hand. That doesn’t stop her eyes boring into Elly as she jokes with Quinn, watching her lean her elbows against the boot of a car, arse pushed out in a way that can only be intentional. As she’s watching, Elly makes a show of checking her watch.

“Right. I know your boss wants to keep you here until the second coming, but some of us have places to go, people to see, paint to watch dry.”

That’s the final straw.

“Ms Chandler.” Jill steps up beside Elly, just slightly too close. “A word, if you please?”

Elly eyes her, mischief writ across her face. The thought that Elly knows _exactly_ what she’s doing only serves to ratchet the tension in Jill’s body a few notches tighter.

“Of course, Detective Inspector,” she says, her tone bordering on saccharine.

Jill waits until they step around the corner of the van, out of sight of the rest of the group, before she makes her move.

Her fingers dig into Elly’s arm, sharp enough to make her gasp. Without sparing so much as a glance in Elly’s direction, Jill drags her into a small, dark alley between the buildings.

“Jill! What on earth -” 

The air leaves Elly’s lungs in a rush as Jill pushes her none too gently up against the rough brick wall. Doesn’t give her a chance to recover her bearings, just steps in close, hands firmly pinning Elly’s shoulders back.

“You,” Jill grits out, voice harsh. “Are pushing your luck.” 

A flash of heat lights Elly’s eyes, stokes the answering heat in Jill’s belly.

“And what, exactly, are you going to do about it?” Elly’s voice drops to a throaty purr that makes Jill’s entire body hum.

With a snarl, she closes the space between them, capturing Elly in a fierce kiss. There’s no tenderness, just clashing teeth, and hot, silky tongues, whimpers muffled in each other's mouths.

Elly squirms beneath Jill’s hands, trying to break her grip, fingers searching for purchase on Jill’s waistcoat; Jill pulls away, chest heaving, fists a hand in the hair at Elly’s nape and pulls back sharply until Elly’s back arches with a gasp.

“Hands to yourself, or I stop.” Jill emphasises the point with a nip at Elly’s pulse point, hard enough that she hears her hiss.

The tension remains in Elly’s frame, but the struggling stops. Grinning, Jill drags her teeth along the straining tendon of Elly’s neck, sinking them into a full bite where the curve of her shoulder begins, hears Elly let out a short, sharp cry. She knows it’ll leave a mark on Elly’s fair skin, and the thought of her having to go back to work with the imprint of Jill’s teeth on display sends a bolt of heat through her.

Shuffling forward, Jill uses her body to push Elly even harder against the unforgiving brick, hears the scrape of it against her heavy leather coat. She slips a leg between Elly’s, pushing up hard. The immediacy of Elly’s response, the way she grinds down against it, makes Jill chuckle.

“Desperate for it already?” Condescension drips from Jill’s tone, and she sees Elly’s eyes narrow in annoyance. Uses the opportunity to pull her head back a little more, just past comfortable. “This is what you wanted, wasn’t it? Why you’ve been such a little brat all day? Doing anything you could to get me to fuck you.”

Elly groans, tries to shake her head, but Jill’s hand holds firm.

“No, I- I wasn’t.”

Jill leans closer, lips brushing Elly’s ear, her voice low and dangerous.

“Don’t lie to me, Eliza.” They’re pressed together from chest to knee, and Jill can feel the tremor that goes through Elly’s body. “Do you want me to fuck you?”

Elly’s eyes flutter shut with a whimper, only to snap back open as Jill bites down on her earlobe.

“Ask for it,” Jill commands, tightening her grip on Elly’s hair even more when she hesitates.

“Yes,” she gasps. “Please, Jill.”

The pained sound she makes when Jill steps back is delicious.

“‘Please’ what?”

Elly’s big brown eyes plead up at Jill and she feels a frisson of desire shudder through her. Tonight, she’s going to take her time dismantling Elly’s brash, confident facade, having her again and again till she’s a desperate whimpering mess in Jill’s bed. She brushes aside the surge of need that throbs between her thighs, focuses on the here and now. She gives a sharp little tug at Elly’s hair, making her whine.

“Please, fuck me,” Elly whispers harshly, eyes fluttering shut. 

Jill frowns, tilting her head. “I’m sorry, what was that? I couldn’t quite hear you.”

Elly’s eyes snap open, glaring a little in defiance, even as Jill keeps her neck uncomfortably arched. Jill has to shift her weight, knows her trunks must be drenched by now.

“I want you to fuck me,” Elly repeats, a little louder this time, a flush of color blossoming high on her cheekbones. “Please.”

Jill _tuts_ in disappointment.

“You can do better than that,” she admonishes, leaning back in to drag her teeth along Elly’s jaw. “Convince me.”

Elly glances toward the mouth of the alley. They’re out of sight, but still close enough that sounds from the crime scene filter through; indistinct voices murmur in conversation, the sounds of car doors opening and closing. It’s a potent reminder that they could get caught at any time.

Jill sees the exact moment that Elly relents, gives herself over. Her whole body relaxes slightly, no longer fighting back against the implacable pull of Jill’s fist, and she meets Jill’s gaze directly, eyes so dilated they’re practically black.

“Fuck me.” This time the words are in a normal speaking volume, loud enough that anyone walking past would be able to hear Elly’s desire-roughened voice. “Right here, against this wall. I don’t care if the whole bloody force hears us. I _need_ you.”

A fierce, almost feral grin of pride splits Jill’s face, and she captures Elly’s mouth in a fierce kiss, her hand finding its way beneath Elly’s bulky sweater, to the waist of her jeans. She pops the button with practiced ease, and shoves her hand beneath the layers of fabric. Her own moan mingles with Elly’s gasp as her fingers stroke through the damp tangle of curls.

“Mmm,” Jill groans, fingertips delving deeper, dragging the wetness she finds back up to circle Elly’s clit. “You _have_ been thinking about this haven’t you”

An eager nod is all Elly can manage, her hips already canting up into Jill’s hand. Jill just smirks, lessening the pressure of her touch, watching the way Elly’s brow furrows. Putting a little space between them, Jill waits, hand perfectly still at the apex of Elly’s thighs. Eventually Elly’s eyes blink open, distress showing in the parallel lines between her eyebrows, the tightness around her mouth. Jill smiles tenderly, feels Elly relax incrementally against her.

And then, in a single smooth motion, Jill thrusts two fingers into her. Hard.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Elly all but yelps, and Jill’s smile widens.

There’s not much room to move beneath the layers of clothing, but Jill is nothing if not determined. She sets a steady, unrelenting pace, intent on getting her off as quickly as possible; the heel of her hand grinding hard against Elly’s clit as her fingertips curl just right. 

Holding herself apart, the only points of contact between them the hand in Elly’s hair and the one down her trousers, Jill watches avidly as Elly bucks and squirms as much as she can, fingers scrabbling for purchase against the rough brick at her back. She does nothing to muffle the sounds Elly makes, stores every moan and whimper and plea away in her memory. Elly is perfect like this, entirely lost to the pleasurable sensations Jill is creating, and she doesn’t want to ever forget this moment.

Elly comes even quicker than she hoped with a sharp cry that Jill only vaguely worries someone might’ve heard, distracted by the feeling of silky walls clenching around her fingers, and the elegant arch of Elly’s spine. She slows her thrusts, but doesn’t stop, working Elly through it until the last flutters of her orgasm die away.

Jill releases her grip on Elly’s hair, easing her hand from Elly’s jeans, watching her slump back against the wall breathing harshly. She can’t resist lifting her hand to her mouth, tongue flicking out to lick her fingers clean, smiling at the almost pained noise Elly makes.

“Well,” Jill says, all business again. “Come along then. Places to go, people see.”

With a mild, unaffected expression, Jill turns away, tucking her hands in her pockets as she walks out of the alley. The offended squawk she hears behind her brings a grin to her face, and she quickens her pace. The sooner they finish up here, the sooner they can go home. 

Somehow, Jill thinks it’s going to be a memorable night.


End file.
